Fears
by FugitiveJuliana
Summary: What if Cameron got infected in Euphoria? How would House react?


Title: Fears

Author: Juliana

Spoilers: anything up to Euphoria (second season)

Characters: House, Cameron, Chase, and others

A/N: This story is based on the premise that Cameron also got sick after Foreman infected her with the needle. Foreman didn't have a brain biopsy, House discovered the reason for his disease without it.

Fears

Foreman was getting better. And she wasn't. She had the same thing as Foreman, primary amoebic meningoencephalitis caused by Naegleria parasite. Or didn't she?

House paced his office, squeezing the ball in his hand, his brow was furrowed, his lips muttering silent words. He couldn't think. He trashed the ball against the wall but all it did was make a thudding sound. It didn't relieve his frustration. 

He left his office and walked towards Foreman's room. He'd been transferred there after he had been given the meds. He was already showing improvement. His pain was subsiding and his fever was getting lower. Chase was checking his vitals.

"How is he doing?"

Chase turned to House. "He's getting better. Unlike Cameron."

"Yeah," House muttered thoughtfully.

He left the room.

"Are you going to see her?" Chase yelled after him.

"Take care of Foreman," House said instead of a reply.

He pushed the button for the lift. When the door opened he saw Wilson.

"I heard Foreman was getting better."

House thought of how everyone was repeating one and the same thing about Foreman getting better just so they could avoid and at the same time emphasize the fact that Cameron wasn't.

"Yeah yeah, and Cameron isn't," he grumbled.

"Any idea why?" Wilson asked patiently.

"No."

They walked towards the isolation room, both quiet and immersed in thoughts. Cameron was lying on the bed in her scrubs. Her hair was damp, face wet from perspiration. Her eyes were deeply set, expressing immense pain and despair. Her skin was yellowish around her mouth and sickly dark around her eyes. Her symptoms increased faster than Foreman's, but House knew that was because she hadn't had Legionnaire's disease. He had wanted to spare her with that, but apparently that was a mistake. Foreman's condition improved within hours of the start of the treatment, hers was following the path of the dead cop. And that worried House immensely. 

Her arm twitched when she tried to lift herself up on the bed.

"Anything?" she panted, staring hopefully at the two doctors on the other side of the thick glass. They couldn't hear her voice, but they could read the question from her lips.

House didn't answer, Wilson lowered his head. It was telling enough.

She sat up with difficulty and grasped her monitor and IV to come closer to the glass.

"Why isn't Amphotericin working on me?" she asked as she stood in front of the two men. Her body was shaking, the pain was forcing her to double over. She could barely stand up without feeling the need to puke from the excruciating pain. Her vision was blurred from it, her mind was losing touch with reality.

"How should I know?" House shrugged. He didn't remove his eyes from her. He kept searching for a telling sign, for a symptom that would differ from Foreman's. But so far he couldn't find anything.

She looked at him with her mouth open. "You're House. You figure things out, you save people."

Her words were like a plea to help her. Another attack of pain made her moan desperately and catch her balance on the edge of the table. After a second she tried breathing deeply to relax, but it felt like someone was trying to quarter her body.

"Please …" she squeezed through clenched teeth. "Please, help me."

She raised her blood-shot eyes to them.

"How am I supposed to find out how you differ from Foreman? Other than you're a lousy doctor. For all I know you messed something up and caused this to yourself," House yelled through the glass.

After the first shock and numbness, his words caused her more pain than the parasite in her brain. She gasped for breath. She couldn't believe he had said that.

Wilson looked appalled at House, trying to say something to get her mind from what had just been said, but he saw Cameron understood all too well despite the state she was in.

"A lousy doctor?" she stammered when she made a few steps back to reach her bed before she dropped to the floor.

House didn't answer. He disappeared down the hall and out of her sight.

Wilson stepped closer to her. "He didn't mean it that way. He's just angry that he can't find the reason the drugs are not working on you."

She gave no sign she had heard him. Wilson gave up and left.

Alison sat on the bed, trying to fight the pain that seemed to be coursing through her veins instead of blood and the pain House had deliberately caused her. How could he think so little of her? How could he crush her last hope that he cared?

Shakily she lay down onto the bed, her muscles contracting to some crazy orders from her damaged brain. He didn't give a shit whether she lived or not. He had been anxious to save Foreman when they still feared he'd die. Even she had helped till Foreman infected her with the needle. Once House had discovered the reason for his sickness, he was satisfied. The fact that she didn't improve after the first dose of the meds didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore.

She didn't know whether she was crying from the pain or from sadness. Her body barely functioned any longer. Her arms were twisting and moving of their own accord, her legs felt numb. Her head would explode any minute if her heart didn't stop first. She could tell she was ever closer. At least then the pain would stop.

"Cameron!"

She was beginning to hear things. She wasn't sure anymore she knew where she was. What had happened to her? Did Foreman really infect her or did she just imagine that because she was angry with him for stealing her article? Was she a doctor? It didn't make sense. Doctors didn't die from weird diseases. She cured people. Or maybe House was right and she was a lousy doctor and she had done more damage than good. She had never seen things as clearly as he had. She had always seen moral dilemmas first and then the medical reasons for breaking them. He had always only seen his goal – to treat people. No matter how many he had to hurt to achieve that or how many rules he had to break. 

"Cameron!"

She tried turning, but her body didn't obey her. She was almost certain now someone was calling for her, but she couldn't see them. 

She pushed herself up on the bed. Her legs nearly gave under her weight when she stood up and slowly turned towards the glass. There stood House.

"Go away," she murmured. He didn't move.

"Go away," she repeated louder, but she was short of breath when another spasm shook her body.

"Cameron, come here," he ordered without any sympathy for her pain and weakness.

"No," she insisted but her manner only expressed feebleness not stubbornness.

"I said come here."

She almost involuntary started walking towards him. It felt like he was miles away. Her steps were slow and insecure. Every exertion made her heart race and her head pound like someone was hammering on her skull.

She struggled to keep her head up so she could look at him.

"I wanted to piss you off so you'd fight, not to depress you," he said angrily. She didn't understand.

"I want you to fight this thing."

"You gave up," she whispered.

"I didn't give up. I just can't find an alternative method to treat this. This dosage of meds is obviously not helping you. So I'm gonna double it."

She was listening to him, but wasn't really hearing what he was telling her.

"Cameron? Are you with me? I'm gonna double your dosage. That involves a risk but it's our only chance. Your fever might increase, you'll feel nauseous and you might get a headache."

She didn't respond.

"Cameron? Answer me."

"Fine." He didn't know whether she nodded or her head just swayed under the stress.

"This could also mean a high risk for your liver and kidney."

This time he was sure she nodded.

He watched her feeble body falling to pieces in front of his eyes. He was determined to make this treatment work. It was their only chance. Losing her was not an option.

"Put your hand to the glass," he ordered.

"I can't," she moaned, pressing against her chest. She tried to calm her breathing.

"Put your hand to the glass," he repeated more pleadingly. His tone got her attention. She slowly raised her hand and pressed it to the cold glass. For a short second the smooth surface and the coldness eased her pain.

He raised his hand, too, and pressed it against hers. She was disappointed when she didn't feel his skin on her palm. She could break the glass just to get to it. But she was so weak.

"Cameron …"

She raised her eyes slowly like this was the hardest movement she had ever had to do. She knew that if her life depended on her getting back to her bed that moment, she couldn't do it. She was at the end of her strength. She could feel it dripping out of her system, the last drops of her life.

Chase was getting into the suit to enter her chamber. House ordered him to double Cameron's dose. He watched House standing as close to the glass as he possibly could. He placed his palm against hers on the glass and he was talking to her. He couldn't hear the words, but he was almost certain he could see fear on his face. And that scared him too. If House was afraid then it might be too late already.

"Cameron, you gotta help me. You have to fight this thing. Don't give up."

"I'm tired," she whined in a voice that sounded nothing like hers.

"Chase will come in and change your dose and you'll get better," House's voice sounded urgent. "You hear me?" He wanted to shake the glass to get Cameron's attention.

"Greg …" Her fingers on the glass curled into a fist and then relaxed again as her eyes rolled back and she went into cardiac arrest. She slid to the floor against the glass. House pounded on the barrier between them, calling her name to wake her up. Chase entered into the chamber, a nurse following him, and they lifted Cameron onto her bed. She pulled the defibrillator to the bed and charged it, opening Cameron's scrubs and making way for Chase to press the electrodes to her chest.

"Clear!"

Her body squirmed horribly when the shock went through her, House watching through the glass.

The nurse shook her head. Chase charged the defibrillator once again.

"Clear!"

Her body was shocked once again, her head swaying lamely on the pillow.

"I got rhythm."

Chase sighed relieved and looked at House. He was gripping his cane, his other hand pressed against the glass. His forehead was beaded with sweat, his chest lifting in erratic breaths.

He wiped his face in his sleeve and then walked slowly down the hallway. In his office he sat in his chair, leaned back and closed his eyes. He deliberately slowed his breathing, massaging his hurting thigh. His hands were still shaking when Chase came into the office. He quickly hid them under his desk.

"She's stable now. I doubled her meds. We'll know soon."

"Or not. Cardiac arrest could mess with the treatment or vice versa."

"We don't have an alternative solution so maybe … it's time we just hope," Chase said and left through the door when he didn't get an answer.

House nodded, more to himself than to Chase.

"Let's hope," he murmured.

After half an hour he became restless. He went to see Foreman. He couldn't stand to see Cameron just yet.

Foreman was considerably better. His vitals were good, symptoms of the disease nearly gone.

Soon he had no more excuses left not to go see her. In the hallway he ran into Cuddy and Wilson. By the look on her face he instantly knew something was up.

"You actually told her she was a crappy doctor?" she attacked him, her pretty face scrunching into a grimace of disgust. "A great way to encourage her," she continued sarcastically.

"I needed to make her angry so she'd fight back."

"Did she? Fight back?" Cuddy raised her eyebrows. Wilson quietly stood beside her.

"No." House lowered his head.

"I thought so."

"You don't know her the way I do. Neither of you. So don't preach. Did anyone else have another solution?"

Cuddy and Wilson remained silent.

"I thought so."

He walked past them without another word.

He didn't want to go in when the nurse asked him, pretending it was too bothersome to don the suit. He stood at the glass, watching her still form covered with a blanket. She didn't know he was there. Her breathing was regular and slow, the color of her face better. It was still too early to tell whether she would get better. They wouldn't know for a few more hours. A very long few hours.

He paced the hall long after he should have gone home. Wilson stopped by twice, Chase came in to check her vitals several times. In the morning the results were encouraging. She seemed to be getting better.

She entered the room like she was there for the first time. It was weird coming back after two months. Everything seemed different, even she felt different.

She pushed the glass door open.

"Welcome back," Chase smiled at her. Foreman just nodded. He had called her two weeks ago and apologized for infecting her. All she could do was forgive him. When people are afraid they'll die they do crazy things.

"You're late," House snapped without turning to her. He kept listing the symptoms of a new case on the board.

"She has seizures and bleeding," he said, underlining the last symptom.

She sat down into her chair. She was sure she'd need some time to get used to all this again. To get used to House again. She wasn't certain whether she just imagined it or she really had called him Greg when she was in the isolation room. True, people do the craziest things. She just hoped he had forgotten it.

"Differential diagnosis."

He hit the desk with his cane and she jumped on her chair.

"Wake up, Cameron. No more time to mope about the house. You're back to work, you need to be conscious here."

"I'm conscious," she said resentfully and kept staring at him. For a moment his eyes stopped on hers. His look wasn't aggressive as usually, he glanced over her face almost gently and stared in her eyes for a short, quiet moment. Then he awkwardly looked away. Cameron felt her cheeks were flushing and she lowered her face to the desk.

Chase and Foreman grinned at each other. House saw Chase snickering, but he couldn't find a suitably derisive rejoinder.

He gave each an assignment and sent them off. She picked up her folder and prepared to leave when House called her back. She faced him, but he remained silent for a moment.

"It's good to have you back." He didn't smile and neither did she. She just nodded before going through the door.

House sat down and tilted his head back, closing his eyes. An involuntary smile spread over his lips. Cameron was back. He was relived, proud. He was happy? Nah, that couldn't be it.

"What are you smiling about?" Wilson's voice cut through his thoughts.

House stood up. "A new case, my friend, a new case," he grinned.

"Right," Wilson rolled his eyes. "What do you take me for, an idiot?"


End file.
